


Hijacked (ON HOLD)

by MemoreM



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Bioaugmentation, Biological Weapons, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Killugon, FBI, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinda, M/M, Major Illness, Mind Control, New York City, Science, Temporary Character Death, Undercover, Violence, mafia, phantom troupe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoreM/pseuds/MemoreM
Summary: Science has bypassed evolution. Biological augmentation has become the norm, and everyone from schoolteachers to soldiers to world leaders has some kind of access to the technology that gives humans powers that were once impossible to fathom. But some things never change-- crime, for instance. The latest and greatest in technology has criminals working smarter, not harder, and law enforcement has upped the ante too. Four of the Federal Bureau of Investigation's top undercover agents are working hard to stop a domestic terrorism group about to strike at an underground auction run by the New York City mafia, one of the FBI's largest informant pools. Will the daring team stop the crime of the century in its tracks, or will an unforeseen evil wreak havoc from the sidelines?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO this is my first fanfic ever (like EVER ever) and I don't know how long it's going to be exactly but I'm going to keep on writing until it's done so HOPEFULLY I keep you guys updated in a timely fashion <3 <3 <3

_Click._  
“—of 62 and a low of 45 here in New York City—“  
_Click._  
“—only at McDonald’s—“  
_Click._  
“—will take ‘Famous Faces’ for 400, Alex—“  
_Click._  
“—and for our last story of the night, Hunter Biotech has issued a shocking statement at a press release just days before the SS-30 Enhancer Module is scheduled to hit the shelves worldwide. Chief Researcher Illumi Zoldyck took to the podium Thursday night to announce the company’s plans to develop what some are calling this century’s game-changer in the field of bioaugmentation— the Aura 6 Specialist.”

“Hey Killua, take a look at this,” the young man in front of the television called out into the darkness of his apartment. “Your brother’s made the news again, huh?”  


Silence was the only response. Silence, and the 10 o’clock news chattering on in the background. _Maybe he already fell asleep,_ the man thought, running his fingers through his raven hair. He glanced out the window into the sea of streetlamps and headlights casting their orange glow into the night sky. _I should probably rest, too. Chief said we’d be getting our new mission tomorrow._ With a sigh, the young man leaned further back into the sofa, pulling the blanket he had wrapped around himself tighter. Lazily, he lifted the remote.  
_Click._  


“Hey, why’d you turn it off? You wanted me to watch with you, right?”  


“HOLY F—” The dark-haired man started with a shout, fists raised and heart pounding. A familiar laugh rang through the air, and with a small click the lamp by the end table blazed to life, illuminating the room and revealing its stealthy inhabitant.  


“Relax, Gon. It’s just me.”  


The raven-haired man sighed with relief at the sight of the lean figure that stood before him with pale skin, silvery white hair, and deep blue eyes sparkling with laughter. _Killua._  


“Don’t sneak up on me like that, Kil!” Gon huffed, fighting a smile of his own. No matter how many times he had told himself he wouldn’t let Killua startle him again, Gon knew his efforts were useless in the end. His friend did work his fair share of hits back in the day, and Gon knew that Killua wouldn’t hesitate to remind him of the fact with every chance he got. _Twenty bucks says he’ll play the assassin card right off the bat,_ he chuckled.  


“I can’t help it,” Killua said plainly, snatching the television remote up off the arm of the couch. He let himself fall back onto the sofa with a thud! that shook the floorboards. “Former assassin, remember?”  


Gon grinned. “Yeah, I remember.” _Now you owe me twenty…_  


_Click._  
“—SS-30 becomes available to the public on the 25th, but as of Thursday’s press release there has been no information on just when we can expect the Aura 6 to hit the consumer market. Investments in Hunter Biotech have been projected to raise more than 10 percent by next week, and—”  
_Click._  


“Figured it was just another publicity stunt,” Killua yawned, tossing the remote control aside. “But watch him call me just to gloat about it anyway.” The young man’s silvery locks rustled softly as he shook his head in annoyance.  


“Y’know, you could always block his number,” Gon said. “If he really bothers you that much, that is. At least that’s my opinion.” _I know I would,_ he thought. He had never really liked Illumi, come to think of it.  


Killua shook his head again, more vigorously than before. “Nah, that’d just make things worse. Then I’d have Mother and all of Hell to answer to.”  


Gon laughed. Sure, Killua’s mother was a force to be reckoned with, but the thought of Kikyo Zoldyck commanding legions of demons was comical to say the least.  


“I don’t think it would be that bad, Killua,” Gon said.  


“That’s because you didn’t live with the old bat for seventeen years!”  


Gon furrowed his brow for a moment, then grinned sheepishly. “I guess I didn’t, huh?” He said, scratching the back of his head.  


“You know what I mean, idiot!” Killua huffed. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if his flatmate _tried_ to be so difficult or if he was just dense. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be asleep or something?”  


Gon turned to look at the clock on the end table. _It_ is _10:50 already,_ he noticed. The constant stream of taxis and motorcycles outside the window betrayed the late hour, especially on a hazy Tuesday night. _That’s New York City for you,_ he mused silently.  


“Yeah, and so should you,” Gon sighed, pulling his blanket up over his shoulders. “We’re getting a new assignment tomorrow.”  


“So I heard,” Killua said. “Any idea where we’re going?”  


Gon shook his head. “Chief didn’t say. Briefing is tomorrow at 6 o’clock sharp, though. Must be important.”  


“6 o’clock?!” Killua growled, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’m going to bed _now,_ then.”  


He stood up from the sofa and stretched, and Gon watched him intently as he padded back through the kitchen and into his bedroom. The way Killua seemed to melt into the shadows of the apartment was mesmerizing, and Gon couldn’t help but feel amazed at his friend’s ability to disappear. _It’s like magic,_ the dark-haired man thought as he switched the lamp by the end table off again, secretly wishing that he too could vanish into thin air as the room was plunged into darkness once more.


	2. Chapter 2: Not a Morning Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua hates mornings. He keeps finding new reasons to hate this morning more than most, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm actually really proud with this chapter ahhhhhhh

At 4:15 Killua’s first alarm went off. A string of curses left his lips as he fumbled in the darkness for his phone, knocking a (thankfully empty) glass off his nightstand in the process. After a few minutes he found the device, still screaming to the world that it’s _still here, it’s time to get up now, can you hear me?_ Killua wanted to throw his phone out the window. Instead he silenced it with a single swipe, and buried his head in his pillow. _It’s too early for this shit,_ he groaned to himself.

By 4:30 Killua had fallen back asleep, only to be ungraciously roused by his second alarm of the morning. This time he knew exactly where to find his phone, and without opening his eyes he turned it off and slammed it back down on the nightstand. _Whoever thought that a 6:00 meeting was a good idea is dead to me,_ he growled.

At 4:45 the _goddamn_ alarm was ringing _again, I hate my life,_ Killua started with a groan. He flung his arm out a little too aggressively at the source of the racket, only to tumble out of bed with a loud _thud!_ that was followed closely by a slew of expletives and the rustle of bedsheets falling to the floor beside the body that had dragged them out of place. 

“Killua? Everything all right in there?” Gon’s concerned voice could be heard calling from the kitchen. Heavy footsteps started towards the bedroom door before a quick “I’m fine” from the other side assured a rather startled Gon that his flatmate was _probably_ okay. Killua winced a bit as he stood, feeling a small twinge in his knee. The pain faded quickly though, and he could walk fine, so he wasted no time checking for further injury before snatching up his phone and clearing the rest of the morning’s alarms. _Hell of a way to start the day,_ he scoffed as he flicked the lights on and set about getting dressed. 

*** 

_Shirt’s on, pants are on, got my suit jacket and my shoes and—_ Killua’s mental checklist was stopped abruptly when he caught a glimpse of himself—no, his _hair, what the hell happened to his hair—_ in the mirror. Killua hissed with impatience as he rummaged through the mess on top of his dresser for a moment before finding a beat-up, wide-toothed comb; it was the only thing he’d ever found capable of taming the absolute _mess_ that was his hair. Every other brush and comb on the face of the Earth was seemingly dead-set on leaving Killua with enough static electricity in his hair to charge a small battery. Memories of doorknob shocks and halos of frizz day after day flashed through the young man’s mind as he painstakingly detangled his silvery-white mane. Once he was satisfied that his bedhead had been at least _somewhat_ managed, Killua snatched a random tie off the rack in his closet and made quickly for the bedroom door. _Gon better have a cup of coffee ready or I swear to God…_

***

“Did you make—”

“Of course. It’s on the table, Kil.”

“…Thank you.”

Killua welcomed his morning coffee like a seafarer stranded on a deserted island welcomes the sound of rainfall and distant foghorns and passing airplanes. His only lifeline on mornings like these was the bitter black gold that carried fire on its back, waiting to lift him out of his utter _misery_ and into the world of the living. Honestly, he couldn’t understand how Gon was such a morning person. He didn’t even need to set alarms, for God’s sake—he just _knew_ exactly when to wake up to have both him and a begrudging Killua ready on time every day. _Most_ every day, at least. 

“Eggs?” 

Killua started at the sudden noise. He had been so absorbed in his coffee that he didn’t notice Gon’s offer of toast and scrambled eggs. “Yeah, awesome,” was his quick reply, too focused on shoveling food into his mouth for a proper thank-you. Gon couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Killua, usually calm and collected, being so keen to finish his breakfast quickly that he practically inhaled his piece of toast, finishing it in just three bites.

“You can slow down a bit, you know?” Gon chuckled. “We’re not going to be late.”

Killua rolled his eyes. “You can’t know that for sure,” he managed to say between large bites of scrambled eggs. “You don’t know what the traffic is like, or how many red lights we’ll hit, or—”

“Or the fact that we have forty minutes to make a fifteen-minute drive,” Gon said with a mischievous grin. At Killua’s dumbfounded glare he giggled and pointed to the time display on the microwave. “It’s only 5:18, Kil. Did you not check the time at all in your hurry to get ready?” 

Killua could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he quickly turned away from Gon to keep his embarrassed flush from betraying his usual air of nonchalance. “…Maybe,” he said quietly around a mouthful of eggs. 

“It’s okay, I’m not judging you or anything,” Gon said earnestly. He knew Killua was quick to fluster, and although Gon’s reassurances would be brushed off immediately, he had a feeling that his flatmate secretly appreciated the gesture. 

“Whatever. I’m done eating now anyway, so let’s just go or something,” Killua said quickly as he dumped his breakfast plate in the sink. He was already halfway out the front door when his phone started to ring in his pocket. He hesitated momentarily, still gripping the doorknob, then continued walking out to the car as if nothing had happened. 

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Gon asked, a confused frown clouding his normally cheery face.

“Nope,” Killua replied bluntly. When he still felt Gon’s quizzical gaze on him a few moments later, he sighed. “There’s only _one_ person who would ever call me at such an ungodly hour, and I quite frankly don’t have time to listen to him brag while I’m still not 100% _alive,_ a big old _screw you_ to whoever planned this _god awful 6 AM meeting...”_

Honestly, Killua could keep complaining, _would_ keep complaining about his morning if he didn’t have his phone— _how was that his phone, it was in his pocket just a second ago!_ —shoved in front of his face. Gon grinned as he pushed the device closer to Killua’s head. “Go on, I answered it for you,” he whispered, pointing at the ticking time log in the upper right corner of the screen. A flat, almost robotic voice could be heard faintly through the speaker. 

“Killu, I know you’re there,” the voice mused.

The caller ID read Illumi Zoldyck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUNNNNN*


	3. Chapter 3: An Unwanted Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua is forced to answer Illumi's call. What does his brother want? And why does he want to talk about it so damn early in the morning?

“What do you want.”

It came out less like a question and more like an accusation. Then again, there wasn’t really much question at all; Killua knew _exactly_ what Illumi wanted, and that was an audience to gloat at. Deep blue eyes stared daggers into passing cars, reflective of their owner’s soured mood. 

“Come now, is that any way to greet your dearest brother? I only want to talk to you, Killu.” Illumi said flatly. 

Killua grit his teeth. “You _are_ talking to me. Now if you could kindly get to the point or shut—”

“Yes, yes, I was just about to. Patience, Killu,” Illumi edged in. Killua didn’t have to see his brother’s face to know he was smiling that _creepy_ fake smile of his. “I want you to join me for lunch today. My treat. I have so much to tell you about, but I know you’ll be reaching headquarters soon. I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

Killua’s stomach churned. _Is he_ watching _me?_ He turned in his seat to look out the rear window, but quickly realized there would be no way to spot a tail in such traffic. He couldn’t see anything out of place in Gon’s car, and he doubted Illumi would _really_ go through all the trouble of planting bugs in a Federal agent’s vehicle anyway. _So why does he know I’m going to be at the office early?_

Killua growled. _“Look,_ I don’t know what you’re playing at, Illumi, but I really don’t have time for your shit today. Have lunch with Mother if you need someone to brag to that badly.” 

“Harsh,” Illumi drawled. “But I think you’ll find it’s harder to avoid me than I let on. I’ll see you at noon, my office.”

Killua cursed under his breath. He wasn’t getting out of this one, for some reason. Once Illumi made up his mind it was damn near impossible to sway him, and at this point it would probably be easier to just go along with whatever the hell he wanted. Besides, the silver-haired man could see the New York City Field Office a few blocks up ahead. He would make this quick, then.

“…If I’m in the area, maybe. I gotta go.” Killua hung up before his brother had a chance to respond. He took a deep breath in, and out, and slowly lowered the phone from his ear. 

“He’s not really _that_ bad, is— _HEY,_ what was that for?” Gon whined, rubbing the spot on his arm where Killua pinched him—hard. “That hurt, Kil.”

_“That’s_ for pickpocketing me and answering my phone,” Killua hissed. _He’s really got some nerve, the cheeky bastard. I_ will _give him props for actually pulling it off, though,_ he mused silently, a ghost of a smile flashing across his lips. 

Gon smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that, Killua. But I knew you weren’t going to answer it, and what if it was the Chief?” The dark-haired man turned to face his passenger, who was fumbling around in the glove compartment, and his smile faded. “You’re not even listening,” he sighed. 

“Am too,” Killua huffed. “Just need to find my creds.” The young man straightened up and held out his identification in victory just as they pulled up to the parking lot’s main entrance. 

“Don’t bend it this time,” Killua said, his eyes narrowing in mock irritation as he handed his credentials over to Gon, who laughed as he scanned both of their badges at the gate’s security kiosk. The machine chimed its approval, and the parking arm raised slowly. 

The lot was mostly empty this early in the morning, so finding a good space wasn’t all too difficult. Gon had parked close to the east entrance, and the short walk from the car to the building was pleasant and refreshing, the late August air cool before the sun had fully risen. 

“Did Chief tell you anything more about the assignment yesterday?” Killua asked Gon as they stepped into the NYC Field Office. Another swipe of their badges let them pass through the turnstiles posted just inside the entrance. Gon shook his head as the pair made their way across the lobby to the elevators that would take them to their offices on the third floor. 

“Not a word. She’s trying to keep this mission as quiet as possible,” the dark-haired man whispered. “I think she’s got orders from Director Mackernasey himself.”

Killua’s eyes widened. In the three years he’d been working for the Bureau, he’d learned that the director only got himself involved in the _big_ cases, like the Kurta Massacre in the late 90s. “You weren’t kidding when you said this was important, huh,” he said softly. The elevator doors opened and the pair stepped inside, their destination set with the press of a button. In a moment’s time the compartment had slowed to a stop at the third floor, home to the FBI’s NYC Organized Crime division.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things are a little slow so far but I promise the story will pick up a bit in the next few chapters!


	4. Chapter 4: A Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua, Gon, and the rest of the team get the details of their new mission. On the sidelines, a new contender begins plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So things are FINALLY going to start heating up! This chapter is a bit longer than the rest but I promise it's far from boring :)

Much to Killua’s surprise, he and Gon were not the first people to gather in the east conference room for the early meeting, despite arriving twenty minutes ahead of schedule. In fact, it appeared that they were the last to arrive. Fellow Agents Kurapika Kurta and Leorio Paladiknight were chatting over by the coffee machine, and Technical Analyst Palm Siberia was standing on the table, fiddling with the overhead projector. Unit Chief Biscuit Krueger, who refused to be called anything but “Chief” or “Bisky,” sat at the head of the table, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking anything but amused with the situation at hand.

_“Palm,”_ she hissed. _“Get off the table.”_  


Palm flinched, dropping the pencil she was using to poke at the exposed wiring of the projector. “But it won’t turn on, and I have a PowerPoint and everything and—” 

“We’ll just gather around your laptop, how about that?” Bisky said, calmer than before. She took a sip of her coffee and sighed, “Just _please_ get off the table?” 

In a flurry of fabric and hair Palm dropped down from where she stood and into her seat, smoothing her dress out in embarrassment. She pulled her laptop out of the bag that lay in a heap at her feet, unlocked it, and opened the presentation she had prepared the night before. “Alright, ready whenever you are, Chief Krue—um, Bisky,” Palm corrected, withdrawing at the sudden glare from her superior. Kurapika and Leorio, having finished making coffee, pulled up a couple of chairs behind the Technical Analyst, and motioned to Killua and Gon to come join them. _Looks like the meeting is starting early,_ Killua thought as he sat down to get a better view of the screen.

“So a few days ago we got a direct tip from _this_ mafia boss—” a mugshot of a well-built man in his late fifties, with a handlebar moustache and slicked-back hair, appeared on the monitor— “that there’s something about to happen at an underground auction. Something bad,” Palm mused. 

“The boss man’s name is Light Nostrade. Apparently his daughter, Neon, is a freakishly good hacker, and she’s made him a lot of money with her skills. She set up a botnet a few years back that steals files off her target’s devices,” Palm continued. “And Mr. Nostrade noticed a disturbing pattern in some of the recent data pulls.”

Screenshots of various emails popped up on the computer screen, and Palm tabbed through each of them as she spoke. “Last week, emails were pulled from about 20 of Mr. Nostrade’s mafia underlings—for _‘security’_ purposes, I’m sure—and in every single outbox was a message sent at _exactly_ 12:00 midnight, on the 18th of August, with the subject line ‘Underground,’” Palm said. “Weird, right?”

“The main text of the emails was messy but not that hard to decipher. At first it just looked like word salad, but it was pretty clear after a few lines that it was fragmented information about the underground auction,” Palm chattered. “Neon and I both came to the conclusion that someone must’ve spread a keylogger virus through the mafia’s internal network. We think its job was to pick up the first few lines of text whenever anything was mentioned in reference to the auction, paste it into a blank email draft, and then send it two weeks before the event starts.” 

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean that whoever planted the virus is going to do something bad, right?” Gon asked with genuine concern. “I mean, we can’t really tell much of anything from just a bunch of suspicious emails.”

Palm shook her head. “Usually I would agree with you, Gon, but there was something more attached to the messages.” With one press of a key Palm revealed what it was that had planted enough suspicion in Light Nostrade’s mind to reach out to the FBI directly: an image file of a spider with thirteen legs. 

A collective gasp was drawn by the rest of the group. _“You’re kidding, right?”_ Kurapika growled. His eyes squeezed shut as he brought his hands to his face. It was obvious that he was working hard not to burst out in anger, and nobody could blame him. The thirteen-legged spider was the symbol of the notorious Phantom Troupe, the band of criminals responsible for the Kurta Massacre nearly twenty years ago. Kurapika’s entire family had been murdered during the attack, which had been carried out to cover the tracks of a human trafficking ring that had poached the eyes of the Kurta clan for illegal bioaugmentation research. _If those sick bastards are planning something like that again, there’s going to be hell to pay,_ Killua shuddered. 

It was Bisky who spoke next. “Unfortunately, Kurapika, we believe this to be the real deal. Although there isn’t any evidence that directly insinuates an attack on the auction, Director Mackernasey and I both believe that we should take every means possible to ensure that the worst does not happen,” she said firmly. “And while the auctions _are_ held by and for the New York mafia and its clients, keep in mind that a great many of the attendees have also turned informant for Federal protection. This is going to be a gathering of some of the Organized Crime division’s greatest assets, and I’ll be damned if we lose the sources that keep us up and running.” 

“The auction is in five days,” Bisky continued. “I’m having you four go undercover as bodyguards for Mr. Nostrade and his daughter while you gather the information to smoke these sons of bitches out. Palm is going to stay behind to be your eyes and ears, as always, but before we head out she’s coming with us to make a quick stop at the Hunter labs to get your augments updated.”

Killua groaned. _So_ that’s _why Illumi knew about the early meeting,_ he realized. He shuddered when he remembered his brother’s insistence on a lunch date, and how he was bound to be dragged into his office whether he liked it or not, now. At least he had the three-hour drive to Albany to mentally prepare himself for whatever Illumi had up his sleeve. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and begrudgingly sent a text to his elder brother.

_Nicely played, asshole._

***

Illumi Zoldyck didn’t turn his gaze away from his computer when his text alert went off. Judging by the time it was bound to be Killua, having realized that he would, in fact, be around for lunch and there was nothing he could do about it. A hint of a smile crossed his lips as he continued typing. 

_Preparations will begin for the third trial. Everything is falling into place just as planned, and he’ll be here in a matter of hours. He suspects nothing._

_Click._ Message sent. Almost immediately, a reply appeared in the Chief Researcher’s inbox.

_But what of Netero? Didn’t he tell you that letting the organism have free reign was out of the question? Let me guess, he doesn’t know ;)_

Illumi’s response came just as quick.

_What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. I want to see for myself what it is capable of._

_Naughty boy, Illumi. You’ll be fired for sure if word of this gets out…_

Illumi raised a questioning eyebrow at the implications of the last message. Without hesitation he sent forth his first and only warning.

_I assure you, Hisoka, it won’t. Don’t think I’ll hesitate to kill you if you so much as think about doing anything as stupid as that._

_I never said I would ;) And old habits die hard, I see…_

_I’ve long outgrown the family business. There’s only so much killing one can do before the urge to create something new overthrows the mindless drive to continue to destroy._

_How poetic… But also hypocritical. After all, you designed the organism to be more than capable of killing… And you’re going to test it on your own flesh and blood, nonetheless ;)_

_It is a sacrifice I am willing to make in the pursuit of knowledge. You of all people should know that._

_But of course, Illumi. Also, I got rid of the fourth biocast like you asked. I presume you have the ‘replacement’… ;)_

_Indeed. I’d invite you to come up and share a drink for your efforts, but I’m rather busy. Good work, Hisoka._

_Cheers ;) And say hello to brother dearest for me…_

Illumi’s mouth turned up in a faint smile as he cleared his most recent conversation from his message history. Sure, it would take a bothersome call (and a small bribe) to the phone company to destroy the last viable traces of his and Hisoka’s proceedings, but after that it would take nothing short of a miracle to hold either him or his accomplice to their words. That was one of the few perks with being tied to the Zoldyck name—it didn’t take much to have people scrambling to clean up after your loose ends. _Because in the end,_ Illumi mused, _they know that to be on a Zoldyck’s bad side is to be a dead man walking._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEAH SO THAT HAPPENED  
> I am SO psyched for the secondary plot that's kinda been hinted at in this chapter. I hope you guys stay tuned to find out what happens!!! <3  
> (And YES, Palm is the Penelope Garcia of this story omg I'm super happy I get to write this character)


	5. Chapter 5: The Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team receives their updates at Hunter Biotech's main laboratories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS!!! Sorry to keep you guys waiting, the initial burst of writing energy has worn off now :P It'll probably be about a week between updates now that I'm not super manic about this story lol  
> Also this is a pretty long chapter, and the next one will be too cos it's basically a continuation of the scene at the end of this chapter (I didn't want to drag this one out too long)

The long ride to Hunter Biotech’s main laboratories was made in comfortable silence. Gon, ever the early bird, had offered to drive so the rest of the team could catch up on sleep, and it was quickly decided that nobody was going to argue with him. Three hours came and went in the blink of an eye, or so it seemed to the freshly rested passengers, and as the team arrived at the gates of the sprawling research complex their last vestiges of fatigue were rapidly fading. All attention soon turned to the mission at hand and to the expanse of buildings that stood before them, as tall and imposing as ever.

Although Killua had visited the main labs more times than he could care to remember, he still found himself somewhat in awe of the sight before him. These buildings represented the pinnacle of humanity’s scientific achievement, and if that wasn’t reason enough to get a little excited then what was? It was no wonder Illumi had wanted to work here; the respect commanded by simply being affiliated with Hunter Biotech was just too great to pass up. If there was anything his older brother could be said to _truly_ enjoy, Killua knew it was power. 

The thought of his brother made Killua tense up a bit. As he and the team made their way across the complex and towards the Primary Development Laboratory, Killua became more and more aware of the way his fists unwittingly clenched at his sides and the gnawing unease in the pit of his stomach. The younger man had always thought that there was something… _off_ about Illumi. Nobody else seemed to think it, though, so Killua quickly shoved all his hesitance aside when he found himself pushing open the door to the PDL and stepped into the cool glow of fluorescent lighting. The receptionist behind the whitewashed front desk smiled at the arrival of the Chief Researcher’s brother and his fellow agents, and greeted them with a soft “Hello!”

“Hey, Canary,” Killua replied. “We’re here to get our augments updated. Where’s the appointment?”

The dark-skinned woman turned her attention to the monitor that displayed the day’s schedule. She frowned, squinting at the display. “I don’t see your name on here, Agent Zoldyck. Are you sure—” 

“It would be under Krueger,” Bisky chimed in. “Sorry, I forgot to mention that earlier.”

Canary smiled softly. “It’s fine. And it looks like you’ll be headed to room 0752, the big lab on the seventh floor. Take the elevators up and then go left until you hit the double doors at the end of the hall. Straight through there you’ll take a right and 0752 should be the first room you come across.”

“Thank you, Miss Canary,” Bisky said warmly. She turned back to face the rest of the team and waved them forward. “Alright, troops! Seventh floor it is.”

***

Room 0752 was large, and easily accommodated the four massive work stations on the far side of the room and the sitting area that the team of Federal Agents found themselves waiting in. The lab had been empty upon their arrival, but a note on the door informed them that the technician servicing their updates would soon be back with the necessary equipment. Machines hummed softly in the background, continuing to gather data in the absence of their masters.

The team had waited for nearly fifteen minutes before the doors swung open and a lab technician bustled in, pushing a small cart in front of him. On the cart were six bottles of water, a small black case labeled “BIOCASTS” in bold blue letters, and a sleek electronic device about the size and shape of a credit card. The technician, whose name was just “Wing” according to his badge, wasted little time on introductions as he opened the small case and began assembling its contents.

“Sorry I kept you all waiting so long,” Wing said hurriedly. “There was a bit of a mix-up with the biocasts, and I had to run back down to the prep lab to sort things out.”

“A mix-up?” Bisky asked, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. “What kind of mix-up are we talking here, huh? Nothing dangerous, hopefully.”

Wing laughed nervously. “Oh no, nothing like that, someone had just misplaced one is all. It was probably my intern, Zushi… but I found it, and the update is still intact, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.” 

Bisky nodded in approval. “Alright then. So who’s up first?” She asked, pulling her meticulously curled hair up into a ponytail. On the back of her neck, just above her collar, Killua could see the small metallic implant that served as a port for the augments and updates that Hunter Biotech provided. Absentmindedly he reached back and ran his fingers over his own implant, the metal cold and unnatural compared to the pale flesh it was embedded in. It didn’t bother him like it used to; when he had first gotten his implant at the age of seventeen it took him months to adjust to the constant pressure at the nape of his neck. Now the port was barely noticeable, only crossing his mind when conversation brought it up or he caught a glimpse of someone else’s. 

“First up is, let’s see here…” Wing picked up the first of six glass tubes—biocasts, Killua remembered— that fit snugly into the indents in the black case’s lining. He turned the tube over in his hand, reading its label aloud. “…Ms. Siberia.”

Palm raised her hand and smiled awkwardly. “That’s me,” she said, brushing her hair away from her neck. “Do I stand up, or turn around or something?” she asked hesitantly. She brought a hand up to cover the blush spreading across her face, a telltale sign that she was getting nervous. Wing shook his head, stepping away from the cart and towards Palm.

“No, I’ll just step right behind you and quick—” Before she had time to react, he had closed the distance between them and gently pressed the biocast to the back of her neck. There was a small _click_ as the device latched on to Palm’s implant and a spring-loaded rod inside punched down into the port. She shrieked at the sudden movement and reached back to shield herself from the strange contraption, but just as quickly as Wing had activated the biocast he withdrew, setting the used glass tube on the table the team was assembled around. He smiled softly, and laid a reassuring hand on a rather shaken Palm’s shoulder.

“Sorry if I startled you,” Wing said soothingly. “I find it’s easiest to just get it over with for nervous patients. I’m all finished with the difficult part now, Ms. Siberia; I just have to check and make sure the update is calibrated properly.” He walked back over to the cart, snatched up a bottle of water and the small, card-like device Killua saw earlier, and returned to Palm’s side. The technician handed Palm the water bottle, which she accepted with hands still shaking slightly from being startled, and then began to fiddle with the tiny device in his hand. In an instant it blinked to life, numbers scrolling across the illuminated screen. 

After a few minutes of pressing buttons and muttering over the data that was being collected by the calibrator, Wing turned to Palm and gave her a quick thumbs-up. “Alrighty, looks like you’re good to go,” he chirped. At the good news Palm seemed to relax more, and stopped rubbing at the back of her neck to return the lighthearted gesture. Wing smiled at her as he picked the black case up off the cart and sat down among the group of agents. He removed the next biocast from the case; it was Bisky’s turn this time, and she didn’t even flinch when the biocast injected the update into the implant in her neck. 

“When you’re as old as me it takes a lot to unnerve you,” Bisky said coolly, grinning at Palm. The younger woman had been staring in somewhat horrified awe at the Chief’s impressive show of resolve, but turned away in embarrassment at the sudden shift in attention. Bisky just laughed and patted Palm on the head lightly. “I’m just messing with you, dear,” she said earnestly. Although the Chief could be hard on her agents, she had many a good moment such as this. The lighthearted atmosphere didn’t fade even as Gon received his update, who only flinched slightly at the sudden pressure of the biocast injection but continued to joke with Palm. Killua smiled; he had a feeling the Chief knew that her comment would brighten the almost clinical atmosphere of the laboratory and put the others at ease. Even Kurapika and Leorio had joined in, chuckling at Gon and Palm’s antics. 

Killua was startled out of his reverie when he felt Wing’s hand alight on his shoulder. He looked up to see the technician remove the fourth biocast from the case and hold it up so Killua could get a better view of it. It was an interesting device in its simplicity; a plain glass tube with a magnetic latch on one end and a spring-loaded rod inside. The rod was held in place by a small lever that fit into a notch just below the spring, which would release when a button on the outside of the biocast was pushed. At the end of the rod Killua could see a small chip loaded into a slot in the metal. _That must be the update,_ he thought, smiling once he had figured out the device and its mechanisms.

“That’s pretty cool,” Killua said as Wing latched the biocast to the port on the back of his neck. He felt a sudden jolt as the update chip was plunged into his spinal column. It didn’t hurt, it never did, but the pressure was startling and Killua instinctively withdrew from the source. Besides, the thought of the billions of interface nanobots that were to emerge from the chip dissolving into his cerebrospinal fluid _creeped him the hell out._

Wing chuckled at Killua’s reaction as he tossed him a water bottle. “I thought you might be interested in our technology,” he said. “The Chief—your brother, I mean—speaks very highly of you. Says you’re a smart young man with the makings of a scientist.”

Killua scoffed mid-drink, nearly choking on his water. “Yeah, right,” he coughed, rolling his eyes in irritation. “He knows damn well I nearly failed chemistry junior year.”

“That’s because you said you already knew it and didn’t come to class except for tests!” Gon chimed in, grinning mischievously. “You _are_ smart, Killua! You just don’t like to brag like Illumi does.”

Killua could feel his face start to burn with embarrassment. “Why do you always say such _stupid_ stuff, Gon?” he muttered, turning away from the rest of the group to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks. Killua felt a dull twinge in his neck at the sudden movement, and frowned. _That actually hurt,_ he thought, reaching back instinctively to feel at the source of the pain. Killua felt another twinge as his fingers pressed into the skin around his implant and winced.

“Hey Wing,” Killua said quietly, trying to keep his concern hidden from the rest of the team. “Is it normal for it to hurt after you get an update?”

Wing raised an eyebrow at Killua, who was gingerly rubbing at the back of his neck. “It _shouldn’t,_ but I suppose it’s not out of the question,” he mused. “The best I can suggest is to drink plenty of water and get some rest if possible, but if it’s still hurting by tomorrow you should come back in to get a diagnostic run.”

“I should be fine,” Killua said dismissively despite the lingering ache in his neck. He was eager to shift the point of conversation away from himself; the agent didn’t need his team distracted by his personal issues. Thankfully, Wing didn’t pursue the conversation further and instead set about administering updates to Leorio and Kurapika. Killua did his best to put the subtle aching out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some weirdness happening for ya guys! Stay tuned for the explanation of exactly what the update is and then Killua's lunch date with Illumi ~o.0~


	6. Chapter 6: Eye Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The update's function is revealed. An unwanted visitor comes for Killua.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the last chapter notes I said that this chapter might be a little long, idk if it is really  
> Also I said there'd probably be a kinda long wait for this chapter but hey apparently not  
> In short, I probably have no idea what I'm talking about
> 
> BUT ANYWAY I hope you enjoyyyyyyyyy

Once the whole team had been seen to Wing gathered their attention to the small, card-like device he had used to calibrate their updates. The scrolling numbers were gone; in their place were six blinking dots, one large one in the top center of the screen and five smaller ones in a horizontal line below it. 

“These dots,” Wing said, motioning to the display, “represent you. More specifically, that—” he pointed at the larger dot “—is Ms. Siberia, and the other five are Agents Krueger, Freecs, Zoldyck, Kurta, and Paladiknight.”

Palm raised her hand slowly. “Why am I the big one? Is that bad, or something?”

“Quite the opposite,” Wing laughed. “It means you’re in charge. More specifically, that you were equipped with the Admin version of the patch while the others remained regular users, albeit with some serious upgrades.”

_“I’m_ the Admin?” Palm gasped, gesturing to herself in disbelief. “Oh my gosh, is this a communications update? _Please_ tell me this is a communications update!” 

“Fresh out of testing,” Wing said proudly. “Your team will be the first to use it in the field.” Palm practically shrieked with glee.

“So here’s how it works. As you already know, the current version of the IntelliComm augment is basically a built-in Bluetooth earpiece, allowing users to communicate verbally across long distances. While it has proved to be extremely useful for a wide range of clientele, it isn’t all that different from regular telecommunications devices. So, in order to distinguish the IntelliComm from the rest of the general market, we had to do something big. Something like this.”

Wing tapped the large dot at center screen. It stopped blinking, and one by one it was connected to the smaller dots with tiny blue lines. Once all the dots were connected the machine chimed its approval, its screen reading “CONNECTION SUCCESS.”

Suddenly, Killua could see a small icon appear in the upper right corner of his vision. He turned his head to look at it, eliciting another twinge in his neck, but the icon seemed to move with his movement. Apparently the others could see it too; Gon’s eyes narrowed in determination as he slowly turned his head, eager to catch the elusive icon. Leorio took his glasses off, blinked a few times, put his glasses back on, and shrugged. Kurapika seemingly stared off into space, but his look of curiosity suggested he saw the icon too.

Wing chuckled. “I see you all can see the menu tab,” he said. “Try looking at it with just your eyes. Think of it like a computer screen; right now you’re all moving your heads around—the entire monitor, so to speak—but your eyes are the cursor. The icon is actually a fixed neural projection; it’ll always be in the exact same spot relative to the position of your head. So when you move, it moves with you.”

Killua shifted his gaze towards the menu tab. Sure enough, it didn’t move when he looked at it this way. The icon glowed when his gaze met it, and he blinked in surprise. When his eyes opened again, Palm’s name had appeared under the tab.

“Whoa!” Killua breathed. “How did I do that?”

“Did you get your contact list to appear?” Wing asked, grinning. “Do what you did before—look and blink—to ‘call’ Palm.”

“Call Palm?” Killua echoed. Hesitantly, he looked up at her name, still hovering under the menu tab, and blinked. Nothing happened. _Did I do that wrong?_ Killua wondered, frowning in irritation. _I don’t get i—_

“AAAHH! _How did you do that,_ Killua?!” Palm shrieked. She clapped her hands to her ears and shook her head wildly. Killua just gaped at her, stunned with confusion. 

“Do _what?”_ he asked bluntly.

Palm pointed an accusatory finger at Killua’s face. “You were _talking_ but _not_ talking _but I heard you anyway and—”_

Wing laughed, interrupting a somewhat hysterical Palm. “Alright, alright, let me _actually_ explain,” he said sincerely. “I can get a bit caught up in the demonstration—my apologies. Anyway, the purpose of this update was to remove the verbal aspect of the IntelliComm augment, and you two just successfully demonstrated the main feature.”

“When Palm said she heard Killua ‘talking but not talking’ she was actually right on the money,” Wing continued. “By selecting Palm’s contact from the menu Killua opened a sort of relay between their minds; in that moment, his thoughts were transmitted to Palm’s IntelliComm and transformed into audible sound. The connection was broken when Palm spoke, though, so the effect was not reciprocated.”

“…So you’re telling us that we can use _telepathy_ now?” Killua asked slowly, trying not to let on just how _goddamned_ excited he was. 

“Basically, yes,” Wing said proudly. “But there are other features too, you know. For example, the Admin can transmit data like images or text to users in their domain with the ‘bulletin’ function, or directly stream what they’re seeing to users with the ‘live’ function.”

Palm, who had been sitting on the edge of her seat, both hands clasped over her mouth, leapt out of her seat and raised a fist in victory. “You have _NO_ idea how much easier this makes my job!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “Do you know how _hard_ it is to get these dorks—” Palm gestured to Gon, Killua, Kurapika, and Leorio, “—to check their emails? Maps, important phone numbers, _all_ of it is wasted on these guys! It’s a miracle they’ve survived this long,” she quipped. 

“But we _have_ survived, so it’s fine,” Killua teased. “Besides, we have Captain Mom over here who’s practically memorized all of downtown NYC. No way we’d get lost.” The silver-haired man thumbed over at Kurapika, who was glaring at him with arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

_“Captain Mom?_ Is that really the best you could come up with, Killua?” Kurapika jabbed sarcastically, fighting a smile (and losing).

“Apparently it was good enough,” Killua snorted. “It made you _smile,_ you self-proclaimed hardass. No denying i—”

Both Killua’s voice and grin faltered mid-sentence as his gaze flitted past Kurapika and towards the now open door to the laboratory. He let out a long sigh and blinked slowly; when his eyes opened again they were cold and piercing. A high, emotionless voice called out from the doorway that Killua’s stare was fixed upon.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

***

The rest of the team didn’t have to turn around to guess who had, probably before he even spoke, ruined Killua’s mood. That piercing glare was reserved for one person and one person only.

_“Illumi,”_ Killua growled, “shouldn’t that be _obvious?”_

“My apologies,” Illumi said without a hint of remorse. “I was just coming to retrieve you—and your team, if they so please—for lunch. Did you forget I was coming?”

“I was _trying_ to, at least,” Killua grumbled. He shot a pleading look at Bisky. _Please do something to get me out of this, Chief,_ he urged silently. 

Taking the hint, Bisky cleared her throat, but the way she shook her head slightly told Killua that she wasn’t going to be able to pull enough strings to get him fully off the hook. “We’d be more than happy to join you, Mr. Zoldyck,” she said coolly, her eyes not wavering from Killua’s even as she spoke, _“But,_ if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Wing here hasn’t quite finished with our updates yet. I’m sure it would be no trouble to you to wait just a _few_ minutes longer now, would it?” At the last syllable she broke her gaze away from Killua and locked on to Illumi with a ferocious intensity only amplified by the curt smile she had painted on her lips. Killua shuddered; he had been on the receiving end of that look before. 

“…I suppose not,” Illumi yielded, his eyes narrowing nigh imperceptibly. “Please, do continue.”

Bisky hummed in acknowledgement at Illumi’s admission of defeat, doing very little to mask her derisive grin; Wing cleared his throat nervously and pressed a few buttons on the calibrator. The display shifted again, with the five smaller dots arranged like the markings on playing dice—four towards the corners of the screen and one in the center. 

“Now that you’ve all been connected to the Admin, all that’s left is to connect the remaining five of you to each other,” Wing said, holding the small device so the rest of the team could see. He tapped each of the dots in turn and a web of tiny blue lines blossomed on the screen, linking the group together. The calibrator chirped cheerfully again; the connection was a success. 

Without hesitation Killua opened his contact list and called Bisky. _“Thank you,”_ he breathed with every fiber of his being. He glanced over at her in expectation.

Bisky didn’t move to acknowledge him, but Killua heard her, loud and clear:

_“You’re welcome, Killua. And try to enjoy lunch, dear.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to put the lunch scene in this chapter but I got to where I ended and I was like, "ehhhhh let's just make it its own chapter" so next installment you get an _entire chapter!_ devoted to awkward family interactions and Bisky trying to moderate but let's be honest Killua is waaaaay too stubborn to let this go down pleasantly


	7. Chapter 7: Aura 6 Declassified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunch with Illumi is rather informative. There's even chocolate cake.
> 
> (Or: The One Where Killua Gets Interrupted)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated, I had a busy weekend at TriCon :) But anyway, here's the newest installment!!! I'm gonna try to get the next chapter out by next week, here's hoping I can make it o.0

As far as Killua was concerned, the _only_ redeeming factor about him and his whole team being dragged unceremoniously to lunch with Illumi was the chocolate cake. And, naturally, the silver-haired man immediately decided that it was all he was going to eat. 

“Really, Killu?” Illumi drawled, eyeing his younger brother’s plate full of dessert. “You’ll end up like Milluki if you carry on like that.”

Killua scowled. “I’d have to eat _ten times_ this much to come even close to that pig,” he muttered between bites of cake. Gon, who had taken a seat beside his chocolate-loving friend, could barely suppress a fit of giggles at the snide comment. Killua elbowed the other agent in the side; _“Shut up!”_ he hissed. 

“I’m just concerned for your health,” Illumi said flatly. _“Someone_ has to be.”

“…I’m fine without your _‘concern,’_ thanks,” Killua retorted, hesitating slightly as his mind drifted to the strange ache around his implant. He honestly didn’t understand why his brother pretended to care, though; perhaps Illumi was simply trying to irritate him. _It wouldn’t be the first time,_ Killua grumbled to himself.

“If you insist, but remember that I’ll always look out for you. I _am_ your brother, lest you forget.” Illumi’s mouth curled into a stiff smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Killua forced himself to turn away from the eerie grin that his brother wore like a carnival mask; it looked fake and plastic, and it sent shivers down the young man’s spine. He winced at the stab of pain in his neck from the quick movement, but hurried to regain his composure before anyone asked him what was wrong. _It’s getting worse,_ Killua noticed. _But I can’t let them know…_

“Is something the matter, Killu?” Illumi prodded. At this point Killua knew his brother was actively trying to provoke him. This fact, on top of the building pain in his neck, made staying calm damn near impossible. Irritation turned to anger that burned away whatever filter the young man had, and before Killua knew it he started to speak, words like acid in his mouth. 

_"Yeah,_ that you're an insufferable di--"

_"So, Mr. Zoldyck,"_ Bisky interrupted, her tone glacial and severe, "To what do we owe the _pleasure—"_ dangerously fierce magenta eyes locked onto Killua's, forcing him into submission, "—of joining you for lunch today?" Silence fell amongst the group of agents immediately; an annoyed Bisky was _not_ to be crossed. _Ever._

All eyes were on Illumi when he spoke again. "As some of you may already know,” he said, “Hunter Biotech held a press release this past Thursday. You may also know that at the release I announced the company’s plans to build the Aura 6 Specialist to the public.” 

Killua pinched at the bridge of his nose, feeling his frustration rise again. _"Unbelievable,”_ he muttered. “Did you _actually_ drag me and my team away from our mission just to _br—”_

"I was given instruction by Director Mackernasey _himself,”_ Illumi interjected, “to gather your team in a secure location of my choosing to ensure that you were confidentially informed of the true status of the Aura 6.”

***

It was almost pathetic, Illumi had long since realized, how eager Killua always was to jump to the worst possible conclusions about his family and their intentions. Even now, as a grown man, his younger brother still sought to find ill intent behind Illumi’s every word and action. _Someday, Killu will understand that I do everything for the benefit of others,_ the scientist mused. _But until then, it seems I have no choice but to humor his every suspicion..._

“Honestly, Killu, did you think I had nothing better to do with my time than waste yours? I had to cancel three appointments to make this meeting happen, and that was far from being by my own accord." Much to his satisfaction, Illumi found there were no snide remarks to be had in response to this statement; when silence assured that he wouldn’t be interrupted, the researcher continued.

“This meeting _and_ Thursday’s press release have been carried out per the instruction of Director Mackernasey,” Illumi said. “If it seems I have been in any way manipulative, I assure you it is only because I was ordered to do so for the sake of secrecy. And, at this time, I unfortunately must inform you that I have kept a considerable amount of information from you all; but again, this was not by choice.” 

Illumi stood from his seat at the conference table, retrieved the stack of thick manila folders on his desk, and passed them out one by one. “I will go over most of the material in these files presently. You are all encouraged to review this information on your own later. I will ask that you keep the contents of these documents confidential, though, so _don’t_ lose these folders. What you have before you now are the culmination of data for the Aura 6 project, which has, contrary to the information provided at Thursday’s conference, already been completed.”

“I suppose I’ll begin with the basics. The Aura 6 Specialist is an augment quite unlike any other out on the market so far in that its nanobots have, in a sense, no preprogrammed abilities. You already know that Enhancer modules rearrange themselves to form layers of either defensive or offensive energy above the skin, EnVision modules can detect the presence of other augmented individuals within set distance parameters, and so on and so forth. The Aura 6, however, is really more of a blank slate; this is because its only set ability is to analyze the stored performance data of the other augments that its user has acquired.”

“But there’s _way_ more to it than that, isn’t there,” Palm said excitedly. “There’s no way there’s such a big fuss over a simple analytics augment.”

“Indeed, Ms. Siberia,” Illumi affirmed. “The Aura 6 is unique because once it has analyzed its user’s performance data, it will program itself to create an augment that will maximize the efficiency of the overall system. The results are completely personalized, and will continue to change to keep up with the addition of new augments and updates. It is truly our most powerful module to date, which is why it is so important to keep it secret.”

“But if it’s a secret, why did you announce it on national television? Just a _bit_ hypocritical, don’t you think?” Killua jabbed. His impatience was starting to get on Illumi’s nerves.

“The press release conducted by Director Mackernasey has served as a sort of preemptive strike against the target of your mission,” Illumi explained. “Before we aired, the Director told us a little back-story to give insight into his actions. Last month, after a covert ops team in East Gorteau uncovered evidence that a Chimera gang member was using illegally enhanced augments, a suspect was taken into federal custody for violation of the Zodiac Augment Protection Act. Although it took some… _persuasion,_ the team of agents was able to strike a deal—a reduced sentence in exchange for information about the gang member’s altered augment. He claimed that he had paid ‘some Spider from the States’ to modify one of our EnVision modules to run scans of the augments it detects and temporarily convert the identified source code into templates for his blank nanobot unit. This man had effectively copied and used the abilities of over 50 different augments before he was caught.”

“So Director Mackernasey thinks the gang member has been dealing with the Phantom Troupe,” Kurapika said quietly. The agent had appeared to tense up at the mention of the ‘Spider,’ a name given by other criminals to members of the notorious gang.

“Precisely,” Illumi said. “And if he’s is right, then the suspect has been feeding the FBI information about the Troupe for a month. The only things of importance that have been revealed, though, are the mechanisms of the informant’s altered augment, the fact that he bought said augment off a Troupe member, and this.” 

Illumi leafed through the files before him, pulled a page out of a copy of the Chimera gang member’s interrogation transcript, and turned it for the group of agents to see. The highlighted text read:

 

SSA MCMAHON: Tell us more about the Spider. You said you bought the augment from them; where did they get it?

SUSPECT L. HAGYA: He made it. It’s almost as good as the real deal, too.

SSA MCMAHON: The real deal? 

SUSPECT L. HAGYA: Yeah, what he’s got. I tried to buy it off him but he wouldn’t give, so I had him make one that’s like it but only works for an hour. He actually takes the source code, the bastard does. That shit’s permanent if you can’t afford to replace the damages.

 

_“No way,”_ Palm muttered. “We’re going up against a _hacker?_ I may be smart but those guys are _genius.”_

“Perhaps, but you have an advantage,” Illumi said. “While hackers may be intelligent, they are also curious to a fault. Often times they will cause problems simply because they wish to know if they can, and there lies the fault—give them an opportunity, and they’ll make a grab for it. Director Mackernasey figured this out, and set up Thursday’s press release as bait. If the Phantom Troupe is making money off of altered augments, what better way to drag them out than to give them new material?” 

“It’s a long shot at best, but Palm will know if and when they take the bait,” Bisky said firmly. She gave a reassuring nod to the younger woman, who smiled weakly in return.

“Duly noted. And there is one other, rather important thing I have to bring to your attention. Wing told you that you all received updates to your IntelliComm augments today, and while he didn’t exactly lie to you, he wasn’t telling the whole truth either. Granted, he had no idea, but I took the liberty of adding the first Aura 6 Specialist patch to your biocasts per Director Mackernasey’s orders. You are all scheduled to return tomorrow afternoon to be tested for your augments’ final results.” 

“Wait, _what?”_ Killua exclaimed. “You didn’t think that maybe you should’ve told us about being augmented without our knowledge _first,_ you psychopa—”

_“Well,_ as much as we’d like to stay,” Bisky said through gritted teeth, “I think we’d best be going now. We are all very _thankful_ that you took the time to go over this information with us, Mr. Zoldyck.” She glared at Killua with such intensity it looked as if she would burn a hole straight through him.

“It was my pleasure,” Illumi said coolly. Although he really _did_ have better things to be doing right now, it had been somewhat interesting to meet with the team of agents. That Palm woman was bright enough, and Illumi had made note of her potential. But what was _really_ pressing on his mind was Killua, and his near-imperceptible hesitation at the comment made of his health. _Has the organism begun to take root already?_ Illumi mused silently, watching his younger brother with curiosity as he and the team gathered their things to leave.

“Killu, if I could have a moment,” the researcher requested. It was only at Bisky’s insistence that Killua reluctantly stayed behind, but Illumi had his brother’s attention. 

“What _now,_ Illumi?” the younger man sighed in irritation. “I actually have to leave, so make it quick.”

“I just wanted to ask you if you’re feeling all right,” Illumi said earnestly. “I noticed you were—” 

_“I’m fine,”_ Killua growled. “I don’t know why you keep asking but I’m going to tell you now to just stop. Please. I’m absolutely _fine—”_ The silvery-haired man’s breath hitched on the last word, and his face twisted in a moment of pain. Killua’s eyes widened in sudden realization that he could no longer deny that there was something wrong, and for a moment he just stood there with mute horror painted across his face. Before either of them had a chance to speak, however, the youngest Zoldyck brother had vanished, leaving Illumi alone in an empty office full of words left unsaid. The scientist stared at the space where Killua had stood just moments before and reached for his phone, which lay on the desk before him. He barely looked down as he typed out a message.

_+1.5 hours, subject shows signs of intermittent pain. Initialization must already be complete. Organism progresses faster than expected, plan accordingly. Subject returns @1300h tomorrow. Your job is to observe._

_Of course ;) I’ll be extra careful with him, don’t worry…_

_Thank you, Hisoka. I have more meetings to attend now but I’ll be in touch later this afternoon. Don’t forget to delete these messages._

_I won’t ;) Ciao_

Illumi sighed, and erased his message history once again. The world of corporate affairs was more closely intertwined with his job than he cared for, but it was not so easily dismissed. _Another day, another executive nightmare,_ the researcher mused. _At least now I have another project to keep myself occupied…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREEPY ILLUMI IS BACK! Also next chapter or chapter after you're probably going to meet Hisoka (finally!) so stay tuned... ;)
> 
> PS Shoutout to Caprica12 for the chocolate cake idea, it was too good to pass up <3


	8. Chapter 8: Ebb and Flow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse. And then they get better. But did they really?
> 
> Or, a collection of vignettes that illustrate Killua's situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY I'M LATE  
> I had some SERIOUS concentration issues writing this chapter, plus I had work most all of last week  
> BUT IT'S DONE SO YAY
> 
> Also I've started another work so check it outtttt ---> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10649292/chapters/23563779

By the time the team had gotten back to New York City, Killua’s headache was constant. What had originally begun as a twinge in his neck had rapidly spun into an out-of-control migraine, or so he thought; he never really had headaches like this. Leorio would probably know what to do, seeing as he was an army medic before joining the Bureau, but Killua quickly put the thought out of his mind. _I am_ not _going to risk being deemed Unfit for Mission because of a stupid headache,_ Killua told himself. He rarely ever got sick, so there tended to be a big fuss when he started complaining of not feeling well. Last time the agent had a cold, Palm made him wear sterile gloves for a week. It was an absolute nightmare.

And so, once back at the field office, Killua poured himself into reading the thick folder of documents Illumi had provided him instead of joining the rest of the team for dinner at the cafeteria. If he could just avoid being dragged around, avoid drawing attention to himself, everything would be fine. That moment of panic in Illumi’s office after the pain had caught him off guard was not something the silver-haired agent wanted to relive, and a little loneliness and hunger wouldn’t kill him, anyway. 

The near-heart attack Gon gave Killua when he suddenly appeared beside his desk holding a sack of Chinese food, however, might.

“Sesame chicken okay? They were all out of—”

_“GEEZUS, GON!”_ Killua yelped, starting so hard at the sudden noise that he fell out of his chair. Impact with the ground sent a nauseatingly strong wave of pain through the young man’s head, and for a brief moment everything went black. 

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ sorry!” Gon exclaimed, rushing forward to help his friend up off the floor. He was sprawled out, still halfway beneath his desk, and groaned as Gon’s strong, calloused hands pulled him upright. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Killua? _Killua!”_

_“Will you stop yelling?!”_ Killua hissed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “If you’d just _give me a second_ I’d be able to tell you I’m _fine.”_ With one hand gripping the edge of his desk for support the agent pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t _startle_ me like that, _idiot,”_ he said, scowling.

“I’m sorry, Killua,” Gon murmured abashedly. He held out the bag of Chinese food again, and repeated, quieter, “Is sesame chicken okay? They were out of Szechuan chicken but I wanted to bring you dinner anyway, ‘cause I knew you’d be up here alone and—” 

_“Gon,”_ Killua chimed, “it’s fine.”

Surprised caramel eyes snapped up to meet deep ocean-blues. Killua’s expression had softened, his scowl replaced by a weary half-smile. “Wait, you’re not mad?” Gon inquired warily. Killua just laughed and snatched the bag of food out of his friend’s outstretched hand.

“Not unless you forgot my egg rolls, dork. How can I stay upset at someone who brought me food?” 

And, just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. For some reason every mishap, argument, and misunderstanding between the two friends always ended much the same—in laughter instead of hard feelings. Today, more than usual, Killua was grateful for this fact; the cover of mirth would hopefully wash away the last vestiges of that moment of terror, and Gon would remain unaware of the pain that surged beneath pale skin.

“Let’s ditch this joint,” Killua said between bites of Chinese food. “It’s getting late.” _And I_ really _don’t want to have another episode here,_ the agent thought nervously. He was anxious to leave before anything else happened to let on that he was lying through his teeth about being fine.

“Sure,” Gon chirped, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

***

Gon knew that something was wrong with Killua. He could tell by the way he avoided eye contact, by the way he kept his usual mockery to himself, by the way he gripped the passenger side door handle so tight his already pale knuckles turned white. And that brief moment before, as he lay on the ground beneath his desk, midnight blue eyes unfocused and dull… _something_ wasn’t right. But, knowing Killua, it was best to let him come to Gon. And so he waited, in the heavy silence of his truck, for his best friend to let down his barriers and _please, just say what’s wrong._

The answer never came.

***

At 4:15, Killua was ungraciously reminded that while he had _turned of_ f yesterday morning’s alarms, he had not, in fact, _deleted_ them. He awoke with a start to the sound of his phone blaring incessantly, and immediately came to the conclusion that the universe really _did_ hate him. 

That was also when he made the rather poor decision to _actually_ throw his phone out the window—or rather at the wall directly next to it. 

There was a sharp _crack_ as the device hit the wall, and Killua instantly regretted his sleep-deprivation-fueled actions. He winced at the sound, and at the thought of how much it would cost to replace the undoubtedly-shattered screen. With a heavy sigh, Killua heaved himself out of bed to retrieve his phone, and sure enough, there was a web of cracks across the front display. _Goddammit,_ he muttered to himself as he turned off the still-ringing alarm and fell back into bed. _It’s going to be one of those days…_

***

Killua managed to get another hour or so of restless sleep before sheer boredom drove him to shower and get dressed just so he’d have _something_ to do. He stayed under the tap until it ran cold, savoring every drop of warm water that cascaded through silvery locks and across pale skin. This was the one aspect of Killua’s day that he found truly relaxing, and he shamelessly relished in it. Getting dressed, on the other hand, was a chore.

It took Killua ten minutes to decide which dress shirt to wear (lavender or pink?), another five to come to the conclusion that neither would work anyway because the only suit pants that were clean were _navy,_ three more to find the suit jacket that _actually_ matched the pants, and the better part of half an hour to track down his left shoe (honestly, _why_ was it in the bathroom?). It was a good thing his hair was still damp enough by the end of the ordeal to comb through easily, or there would’ve been hell to pay. 

Killua checked the time on his phone—6:45. He was surprised at how early he had managed to get ready of his own accord; Gon usually had to wake him after he slept through his alarms. Come to think of it, Gon _should’ve_ been in to check on him already. Killua frowned and listened for signs of movement in the apartment; if Gon wasn’t planning on waking him then what _was_ he doing? The faint clicking of the gas stovetop and the _chink_ of silverware on china revealed that someone was cooking breakfast. Killua grinned; one of the perks about getting up early was that he could snag some of whatever Gon cooked before it was all gone. He inhaled sharply through his nose, trying to deduce what was on the menu, and the answer had him bounding out of his room and into the kitchen like a child on Christmas morning: _chocolate chip pancakes._

***

“Hey, what’s the occasion?” Killua asked as nonchalantly as possible, hungrily eyeing the stack of pancakes on the kitchen counter. Gon poured another scoop of batter into the pan on the stove.

“You got through visiting with Illumi yesterday without throwing anything at him,” Gon laughed. “That’s a first.”

Killua scoffed. “Is _not.”_

“Name _one_ time you _didn’t,_ then,” Gon teased, grinning mischievously. He put one hand on his hip and the other brandished a spatula expectantly. If Killua wasn’t racking his brain for a valid answer to the challenge at hand, he would’ve laughed mercilessly at his best friend’s resemblance to an old housewife. 

Killua smirked, snatching a pancake off the stack in front of him. “Last year, Christmas dinner.” 

“Nope. Two forks _and_ your fifth glass of wine.” _Damn._

“Alluka’s college graduation party.”

“The guest book, three empty soda cans, and my shoes.” Killua grimaced.

“…Your 25th birthday?”

“Steak knife, lawn chair, right hook, left jab. In that order.”

_“Oh.”_

After a moment of awkward silence, they both started to laugh. Killua’s temper had been the root of many a strange memory, and as recollection came flooding back the stories just got weirder and weirder. Before too long the two friends found themselves in hysterics, paralyzed by breathless laughter at the sheer absurdity of Killua’s past antics. 

“Oh my god… I’m _insane,_ aren’t I?” Killua managed to say once he could breathe again. He felt slightly dizzy from laughing so hard, but moments like this were always worth it.

“Yeah, just a bit,” Gon chuckled, turning his attention back to the pancakes on the stove. “But that’s why we’re best friends, y’know? ‘Cause you’re crazy and I’m crazy and it just works.” 

Killua blushed; of course Gon had to go saying embarrassing stuff like that. “You’re such a _dork,_ Freecs,” he mumbled, taking another bite of his pancake. _But that’s why we’re best friends, isn’t it?_

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah, me t—wait, _what?”_

Killua didn’t know what caught him more off guard: what Gon had just said— _just implied_ — or that he was actually _right._ Azure eyes widened in realization that yesterday’s god-awful headache was _completely, totally gone._

_But was it that obvious?_

“I mean, I’m glad you aren’t at Illumi’s throat anymore. That counts as feeling better, right?” Gon continued, flashing his signature sheepish grin.

“Y-yeah, I guess it does,” Killua faltered. Gon was acting _weird;_ trying to let him sleep in, making chocolate chip pancakes, talking about _feelings_ … It was like he could see right through Killua’s façade. Killua’s mouth went dry—he needed to stay composed, needed to play it off, needed water, _needed water,_ needed…water? Needed—

“Killua, are you okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER!!!
> 
> Y'all can hate me for that if you like, lord knows I deserve it what with what I'm going to do to my childre-- CHARACTERS I MEAN CHARACTERS


	9. Chapter 9: Harmless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe it's nothing after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE WAIT

_“Killua, are you okay?”_

Gon knew the answer before the question had fully left his lips. He had expected Killua to get a little flustered once the subject changed to how he seemed to be feeling better, but _this?_ Gon had watched his flatmate’s expression go from laughing to shocked to apprehensive—that much he had planned for—but now he sat unmoving, staring blankly into space, the beginnings of a word playing silently across his lips over and over again. 

“…Killua? Can you hear me?” 

He didn’t move an inch when Gon reached across the counter to shake his shoulder lightly. His eyes didn’t focus when Gon’s trembling hands turned his head to look at him. He still tried to form that ghost of a word even as Gon pressed his thumb over aimlessly moving lips, trying to still them. He was there but he _wasn’t,_ and it was startling and terrifying and Gon didn’t _want_ to let go of Killua’s face but he had to do _something, anything, where was his GODDAMNED phone—_

_“—Water…_ I, um… Can you, uh, p-please get me some water, Gon? _Gon?”_

Gon froze, his flatmate’s dazed voice drawing him out of his frenzied search for his mobile. Panicked amber eyes met cerulean, and this time there was recognition—albeit _confused_ recognition—in Killua’s gaze. He didn’t seem to be aware of what had just happened, and was staring at Gon expectantly.

_“Hello-ooo?_ Earth to _dork._ Can you _please_ get me a glass of water?” Killua persisted, his voice somewhat steadier this time. His brows furrowed in half-irritation, half-confusion when the other agent made no motion to acknowledge his request. _“Gon,_ are you okay?”

The sudden déjà vú struck another chord of panic into Gon’s heart. He couldn’t freeze up, not _now._ Killua had no idea what had just happened, what the other man had just _seen_ —or so it seemed—and if he were to find out now his confidence would be shattered. Gon _knew_ Killua had been hiding something, and Killua only ever kept secrets to protect people… 

So, Gon decided to do the same.

“…Back spasm, sorry,” he lied, his face twisting in mock agony. “It _really_ hurts, Killua—can you do the thing?”

Killua sighed exasperatedly, all traces of unsteadiness now gone from his voice. “What am I going to do with you, you giant oaf?” he teased, pulling Gon gently by the sleeve towards the sofa in the living room. “Lie down, you know the drill.” Gon complied, wincing for good measure; if Killua could see through the ruse, or if he had any recollection of what had just happened, he wasn’t letting on. 

“You ready?” Killua asked, and Gon could hear the low crackle of electricity blazing to life behind him. He nodded in confirmation, but still flinched when he felt a quick _zap_ to the back of his knee. It wasn’t exactly painful, but the sudden charge was surprisingly strong; Gon compared the sensation to the shock of compression that jolted through his legs after jumping from tall trees in his youth. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Killua murmured in concern at Gon’s withdrawal from his touch. Gon shook his head vigorously as he sat up, turning so he could see the other’s face; sparks still flickered across the pale visage, charged aura not fully dissipated. Killua’s augment of choice, the Transmuter Mark 99, gave him the ability to generate a layer of electricity over his skin. To Gon, at least, it never ceased to be impressive.

“No, I actually feel much better now, thanks,” Gon assured, although it wasn’t entirely a lie. Sure, he had fibbed about his back hurting, so he didn’t actually _need_ Killua to use his sparks for acupressure, but once he had it was like a weight lifted off Gon’s shoulders. Killua was in control enough to use his augments, so maybe— _just maybe_ —that unsettling staring spell had been harmless. His mind put somewhat at ease, Gon felt comfortable enough to continue conversation. “By the way, which point did you use this time?” he asked, gesturing to his knee.

“Weizhong, Middle of the Crook. It’s good for lower back pain,” Killua replied. “At least that’s what Grandpa Zeno always says.” Gon could see his friend’s expression soften a little at the mention of his grandfather, one of the few family members that Killua was on good terms with. Zeno could be strict, and he was unwavering in his traditional Chinese views, but he was more of a father figure to Killua than Silva had ever been. 

“I’d have to agree with him,” Gon chuckled. Now that he thought about it he actually _had_ been a little sore before, and the acupressure had helped ease some—

_BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP_

_“Gon, the pancakes!”_

***

A couple minutes, three burned pancakes, and one gutted smoke detector later, Killua remembered the reason why Gon’s Aunt Mito had a written rule in her kitchen that _‘under_ no _circumstances is there_ ever _to be cooking left unattended for_ any amount of time, _period.’_

That reason was _Gon._

“Dude. The pancakes _fused_ to the pan, how the hell did you manage that?” 

Gon frowned, snatching the pan away and mumbling something about “not even in the kitchen, wasn’t me…” That comment earned a snort of laughter from Killua, who had already returned to scarfing down the pancakes that _weren’t_ burned into oblivion. At this rate, he’d finish the whole stack before Gon finished scraping the char off the pan and into the trash.

“Hey! I haven’t even had any yet,” Gon whined, pulling the plate of food out of Killua’s reach. “I didn’t make this breakfast _just_ for you, you know.”

“Then hurry up and eat, dork,” Killua retorted, gesturing to his watch. “We have to leave in like, ten minutes.”

Gon shook his head. “Actually, we don’t. Palm called everyone last night and told us that we didn’t have to come into the office this morning, just be back at Hunter Labs by noon at the latest. You were already asleep by then, though… You must’ve been _really_ tired, huh Killua? I’m surprised you got up so early.”

“I didn’t _want_ to, but I forgot to turn off yesterday morning’s alarms,” Killua grumbled. “Typical. But I’m awake now, so there’s nothing to be done about it, really.”

“At least you got chocolate chip pancakes out of this morning,” Gon chirped.

“Yeah, I did,” Killua hummed. “Even if you did almost burn the whole apartment down.”

“Come on, I said I was sorry!”

“I’m just messing with you, _dork.”_

_“I’m not a dork!”_

“Are _too.”_

_“Am not!...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is _really_ short and honestly a bit of a filler once you get past the resolution to last installment's cliffhanger, but it gives a bit of insight into the characters too, I think. I have this headcanon that Killua's family is Chinese and Zeno immigrated to the US when he was a kid, so you get a bit of that culture in this chapter; also we mention Aunt Mito and get a hint at what Gon was like as a kid  <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also, for you guys' reference, in the opening scene Killua is having an absence seizure, or formerly known as a "petit mal" seizure. Later on all this will be explained in more detail, but for now I'll just tell you the basics as they happen so it's not super confusing... 
> 
> Also that little fluffy ending ^-^


End file.
